Chapter 98

[ 1,083 words ]

{Third Person}

The Queen’s receiving hall was already filled by the time Amara arrived.

The atmosphere felt different, denser.

Every seat was occupied, every figure composed, yet beneath it all lingered something sharp, like quiet anticipation, waiting for the right moment to surface.

Amara stepped in beside Mrs. Woods, and for a brief second, the room seemed to shift subtly. Conversations softened. Gazes lifted. Attention turned.

She felt it immediately. She was the only human in the room, and it showed.

At the head of the hall, Queen Lysandra sat with effortless authority, her posture elegant as always, her expression calm, but her eyes were already on Amara, watching with measured scrutiny.

To one side, Elowen sat comfortably, her presence the only visibly relaxed one in the room. The moment she saw Amara, her face brightened slightly, though she didn’t wave or call out, clearly aware of where they were.

On the other side sat Julia, her expression cool, her gaze barely lingering on Amara before she looked away as if she had seen nothing worth noting.

Beside her was Yara, the Third Prince’s mate, composed and observant. Unlike Julia, she did not look away immediately, but neither did she offer warmth. Her gaze lingered just long enough to acknowledge Amara’s presence before returning to her cup.

Further down… much further, the lower concubines sat. Among them was Nora. She was quiet, almost blending into the background.

And then, there was another presence that was impossible to ignore.

The King’s pregnant concubine.

She sat with a certain pride that was not even subtle, one hand resting lightly over her stomach as if to remind everyone in the room of what she carried. Her chin was slightly lifted, her posture just a bit more pronounced than necessary.

It did not go unnoticed. Especially not by Lysandra.

For the briefest moment, irritation flickered across the Queen’s face before it was smoothed away completely.

Amara took all of this in within seconds. Then she lowered her gaze slightly and stepped forward.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted, performing a respectful curtsy.

Lysandra let the silence stretch just a fraction longer than necessary before acknowledging her. “You are late.”

The words were calm but deliberate.

Amara straightened. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Lysandra studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod as if accepting it, though the faint curve of her lips suggested otherwise.

“Take your seat.”

Amara hesitated briefly, her eyes scanning the arrangement. It did not take long to understand that position mattered here. And hers had already been decided.

She moved toward the seat indicated for her, which was neither at the far end nor near the Queen. It was placed in a position that made her visible but not important.

That was intentional.

As she sat, she could feel the weight of several gazes still lingering on her. And Julia was one of them.

She let out a faint, almost inaudible scoff before picking up her cup, her tone light but edged as she spoke.

“It seems the palace has become quite… accommodating lately,” she said, not looking directly at Amara. “Inviting just anyone to sit among us.”

The words were casual, but not harmless. A few of the concubines lowered their heads slightly, pretending not to listen while clearly doing exactly that.

Amara heard it. Of course, she did, but she did not respond.

Yara glanced briefly between them, then returned her attention to the table, choosing neutrality over involvement.

Elowen, however, shifted slightly in her seat, her eyes flicking toward Julia with mild disapproval, though she said nothing yet.

Lysandra allowed the tension to settle before speaking again, her voice cutting smoothly through the room.

“Since everyone is present,” she said, lifting her cup, “we may begin.”

Servants stepped forward immediately, beginning to serve the meal with practiced precision.

For a moment, the room seemed to return to order, but it didn’t last because the King’s concubine chose that moment to speak.

“I must say,” she began, her tone soft but carrying easily, “it feels different attending such a gathering now.”

Her hand rested lightly over her stomach again. “There is much to look forward to.”

The meaning was clear, so was the display.

A subtle shift passed through the room. Some of the women forced polite smiles, while others avoided looking at her entirely.

Lysandra, however, set her cup down with controlled precision. “Yes. We are all… aware,” she said calmly.

The slight pause before her words was enough to reveal her irritation. The concubine smiled, seemingly pleased.

Amara watched this unfold quietly, beginning to understand that this gathering was not simply about her. It was a battlefield, just one that did not use weapons.

Julia leaned back slightly, her gaze flicking toward Amara again. “And some are more fortunate than the others,” she added lightly.

This time, her eyes lingered just long enough to make her target clear.

Amara finally looked up, and their gazes met. For a brief moment, neither looked away. Then Amara lowered her eyes again, choosing silence over engagement. Not out of weakness, but caution.

Across the table, Elowen exhaled softly, already sensing where this was heading.

And at the head of the table, Lysandra watched everything. Every glance. Every word. Every reaction.

Her expression remained composed, but beneath it, something else was taking shape.

The conversation did not remain light for long. It shifted almost imperceptibly, like a current changing direction beneath still water.

Lysandra finally set her cup down with quiet elegance, her gaze drifting across the table before settling deliberately on Amara.

“My dear,” she began, her tone softer now, almost concerned. “I heard something rather troubling yesterday.”

The room stilled, just enough with the Queen’s statement.

Amara felt it before she even looked up. She already had an idea of where this conversation was headed, but still, she lifted her gaze and met the Queen’s eyes.

“Your Majesty?”

Lysandra sighed faintly, as though burdened by the topic. “It seems the Alpha Prince… lost control.”

A measured, careful pause followed. Then, she continued, her voice dipping slightly, “And not just anywhere, but within your own quarters.”

A few soft murmurs intentionally rose around the table. Amara kept her expression steady, though she could feel the weight of every gaze returning to her once more.

Lysandra leaned slightly forward, her concern now more pronounced. “You must have been terrified,” she said gently. “Tell me… were you hurt?”

The question sounded kind, but it was not.

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